


Hope of Mourning

by scepterofstardust



Series: Finish Line [1]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Andreil, Gen, I'm Sorry, M/M, Series, i thought of this at 3 am
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-09-25 02:04:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9797594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scepterofstardust/pseuds/scepterofstardust
Summary: The memories always find him at night, but so does Andrew. And then everything is alright.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I thought of these ideas at 3 am okay I'm sorry

Neil’s vision was a dizzying smear of color and movement. He was nauseous and blackness ate at what little he could make out. The small bedroom pressed in and stole Neil’s air. His frigid fingers clawed at soaked sheets, and he gasped for breath but all he took in was blood, something metallic, something more revolting beneath. The quivering body underneath him was covered in shadow, the pale skin of the boy’s back dotted in scars and flecks of red. In the background there was a bang, a shout of surprise and a yell of rage, but Neil did not hear any of it. Scarlet decorated the walls but he did not look. All he cared about was the bruised hands clutching the headboard, the white knuckles, and Neil held in his scream as he bowed his head and that laugh filled his ears- **  
**

Neil’s body jolted, and he woke with a start, chest heaving and skin cold. He didn’t move at first. He breathed, he tried to unclench his fists from the blankets. It was a futile effort. 

Neil raised his head to find Andrew watching him. 

The other boy’s eyes were bleary, still fighting sleep, but becoming more alert by the second. He’d probably been awake from the second Neil moved. He was studying Neil, analyzing. Neil lay still, inhaling deeply, and stared back.

“What is it?” Andrew questioned in a hoarse voice. Neil squinted at him in confusion.

“…What?” His lips felt sluggish and heavy, the single word lead in his mouth. Neil could see in the moonlight enough to tell that Andrew was frowning now.

“You were calling for me.” Neil blinked at him.

“Oh.”

“Oh.” Andrew echoed, but the mocking edge was halfhearted. “Dreaming, Josten?” His hand, warm from being against his body under the blankets, carefully rested against the back of Neil’s neck. The touch steadied Neil, and he tried to relax the tension in his muscles.

“Yeah.”

Andrew went quiet, his thumb drawing circles on Neil’s skin. Neil fought back a shiver and moved closer, letting Andrew’s body heat seep into him. He flicked a glance upwards, an unspoken _Yes or no?_ Andrew laid his head down on the pillow and pressed his lips lightly to Neil’s cheekbone. _Yes._ Neil’s eyes slid shut, and he sighed. The room was still again. Neil’s heartbeat calmed and his muscles gradually loosened. Andrew’s hand was a steady weight, anchoring him to home. Safety made Neil drowsy and he said nothing else for several minutes. Both of them were nearly asleep when a thought came to Neil. Normally, he would have kept it to himself. But Neil Josten was learning to be honest. (And he was tired; his judgment was slightly skewed.)

“’Drew?” Neil whispered.

“Mm.” Andrew’s hand tightened its grip slightly. Neil couldn’t help a smile at his disgruntled attitude.

“I hope I hear you laugh someday. A real one, you know.” Neil felt, rather than saw, the incredulous look the other shot him. For a minute there was no comment, but then Andrew snorted.

“So, you’re encouraging me to laugh at your expense, is what I’m hearing.” He sounded slightly off-kilter, strange. Like he’d tripped on a crack in the sidewalk. Neil felt a rush of satisfaction.

“If that’s what it takes. Should I fall down a flight of stairs, maybe? Call Exy stickball to Kevin’s face? Tell Coach I’m fine one last time?”

“Two hundred ninety percent, Neil,” Andrew grumbled. “Keep your self destructive ideas to yourself.” Neil chuckled.

“Then how will you stop me from doing stupid things?”

“You are nearing three hundred. Danger is imminent.” His intuition said Andrew was smirking in the dark. Neil worked to push away all remaining traces of his nightmare. Andrew was beside him, whole. Not full of that trembling mania he remembered from that day. He was doing his best to keep that particular demon at arm’s length. Neil had so many, it was easy to slip up. The memory of the boy who was, for Neil, stability, covered in bandages and struggling to get into his car was enough to threaten whatever was in his stomach. Neil shoved the thought away as best he could. He finally tumbled into a deep slumber, this time dreaming of nicotine in morning sunlight and the crunch of asphalt under his shoes.

Andrew did not rest in the dim apartment. Instead, he took in the details. Neil’s eyelashes brushing his cheeks. His lopsided hair. The thundering pulse underneath Andrew’s touch winding back down to a steady cadence. The sound of even breathing. He’d fought away sleep the second Neil had shifted in discomfort. Andrew had heard the hideous scratch of fingernails against sheets, the wet sobs. Neil’s spine drawn into itself, visible beneath his skin. But what he wouldn’t forget was the words. They sounded like glass shards flying. Like collateral damage.

 _Andrew_ , Neil had whimpered, his name a desperate plea. Too fragile for the person he was. _Andrew, Andrew, Andrew-_

Andrew couldn’t undo what had been done. His life had taught him that if nothing else. He had been more than willing to carry every single one of his horrors. His brother’s too, if need be. He had taken on Neil’s, now. He had tried to keep Neil from taking some of his in return. But Neil, was Neil. He was stubborn. And he loved Andrew, despite all the reasons he shouldn’t. He’d steal Andrew’s nightmares from him, if he could. Andrew would fight tooth and nail to stop him. But it was too late for them both. Andrew wouldn’t deny that he dreamed too, of all the things that haunted him, and of a faceless woman making Neil scream, of burns and tattooes and a car beside a California beach. Whenever morning came, the sight of Neil beside him, alive and breathing, washed it away. He hoped that Neil felt the same-that seeing Andrew would ease his mind. (Even if he was scowling and using the lint roller to get cat hair off his clothes.)

Andrew leaned in slowly and pressed a kiss to auburn curls. 

“Idiot,” he murmured, and tugged Neil closer.


End file.
